


The Mysterious Couple

by fadewithfury (foxmoon)



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 13:21:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 14,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5418599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxmoon/pseuds/fadewithfury
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My collection of Doctor/Rose drabbles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beach (Nine/Rose)

The Doctor sat on a towel with his arms resting on his bent knees, eyes squinted, as he watched Rose wander the surf looking for seashells.  She wore an overlarge t-shirt that draped off of one shoulder, exposing a strap of her pink bikini and gently sunburnt skin. He didn’t allow his gaze to linger there, and instead focused on her face and how it was scrunched endearingly in concentration. She caught his eye and a smile bloomed on her face.

She bounded through the packed, wet sand and then over a short stretch of fluffy, dry sand to reach him. By the time she was there, she had sand caked all over her feet and calves. She sat down next to him and set her collection of shells down beside them.

“Still no chance you’ll go for a swim?”

The Doctor gazed at her, finding himself unable to keep from smiling. He shook his head. “No.”

“Ah, come on. Isn’t it hot in that leather?”

“I’m not going for a swim, Rose.”

She shrugged. “Suit yourself.” She stood and pulled her t-shirt over her head and flung it at him as she took off.

He sighed, the sound of the ocean now muffled from beneath the layer of cotton-blend fabric. He grabbed it and tossed it aside, but not before putting to memory every nuance of her scent.

Standing, he shouldered off his jacket and dropped it on the towel next to his boots—she’d asked him to take those off as well. _Don’t you want to feel the sand between your toes?_ She’d tilted her head with that coy smile of hers, and, yeah, he’d taken off his boots.

He walked towards the surf, felt his toes seep into the wet sand, and watched Rose beckon him from the crashing waves. She was a siren, no doubt, and he was one shipwreck away from letting her pull him under.


	2. Bend the Bars (Ten/Rose)

The Doctor wanted to kiss Rose Tyler. Not just any kiss, mind. There had been a few kisses between them, though none of them were enough. They were profound in their importance, certainly. But, they were mere trinkets in comparison to what he imagined as he’d watch her light up in awe of a supernova, or late at night after she’d gone to her room to sleep. He wanted to lose himself in her. Wanted to let go of the weight of hundreds of years and be renewed by her searing touch. He was tired. So tired of holding back and tired of rules and owing the universe so much while the universe was content to owe him nothing. Every time he thought he had caged his desire, she’d bend the bars with her smile and there his hearts would be, raw and beating, just for her.

This moment was no exception. She had just saved the day, bravely facing potential death with words of compassion as he took care of the technical side of their predicament. What a team they were; the stuff of legend.  She dragged her hand along the edge of the TARDIS console, fingertips gliding over the cracks and grooves as she walked towards him. The Doctor did not look at her, knowing that if he did it would be over in seconds. No, less than that.

Rose was very close now. He could smell the light floral fragrance of her hair and hear the catch and drag of her fingernails as she played with the fabric of her summer dress.

“Doctor, I…” she began, and he looked up, noting the same longing echoed in her voice. It made him hard.

He really shouldn’t have looked up. Less than seconds, just as he presumed. It wasn’t clear who reached out first, but it had to have been him. He wrapped his arms around her as though he could pull her inside of his soul. Her lips caught his, her tongue slid along his bottom lip and he angled his head better. There. His tongue touched hers, their lips pressed and released, his body was flush with hers and she arched, pressing even closer. Her hands held his face, then her fingers raked back through his hair. Every nerve fired and he kissed her harder. Heard her whimper, a tiny breathy moan that he’d never forget. She parted from him to catch her breath and his eyes drank her in. Still not enough. He wanted more, and from the way she breathed his name, how she settled back against the console and licked her kiss-swollen lips, he knew she felt the same.


	3. Haircut (Tentoo/Rose

Rose ran her fingers through the Doctor’s hair and he hummed as he sat back in the chair in Jackie and Pete’s living room. Her nails grazed his scalp, making him tingle from head to toe.  He shifted and closed his eyes, a lopsided grin plastering his face.

“Your hair’s getting long.”

Her voice was soft and right at his ear as she leaned into him from behind. She placed a kiss on his jaw and resumed massaging his head.

He reached and patted around for a throw pillow on the settee nearby without opening his eyes. Finding one, he placed it over his lap and sank into the chair further. “Nah.”

“What d’you mean, ’nah’? We’re reaching proper cockatoo levels of lift here,” she said as she tugged at his fringe. “And this bit’s growing over your ears.” Her fingers swept down and back along the sides of his head. “And back here’s a right mullet if you ask me.” She brought her thumb down the nape of his neck, brushing it up and down soothingly through the ends of his hair.

The Doctor heard her voice, laden with amusement and coy promise as it was, but the words transformed rather quickly from sound and syllable to a pleasant vibration that ran through his body making his blood rush south. He pushed his forearm against the pillow in his lap and shifted his posture again, cursing his sensitive human biology.

Rose slid her fingers back up through the hair on top of his head, giving him little pulsing presses of her fingertips as she went. “Unless you want to grow it out. Don’t want to assume you’d rather keep it short.”

The Doctor clicked his tongue. “I’d look ridiculous with long hair.”

“Mmm, but more to tug, yeah?” she said against his ear again, and he made a low, almost growling sound deep in his throat.

“How about a truce. Short-yet-still-tuggable?” He lifted his eyebrows and smiled, eyes still closed.

“Then a trim’s all you need, really.”

“I’ll give him a trim,” came Jackie’s voice like a burst of cold water crashing over his head.

The Doctor’s eyes shot open and he sat up so fast he almost knocked the pillow from his lap. He righted it, cringing at his current state—how long had that woman been there? Rose wouldn’t flirt with him like that if she’d been there all this time, right? He twisted a bit to see Jackie leaning over, inspecting his hair.

“Th-that’s okay. I can manage myself.”

“Oh, come off it. You need a professional touch, dear,” said Jackie, her voice fading as she walked towards the kitchen.

“That’d be great, ta.” Rose said, smiling at the Doctor.

 _No ta_ , he mouthed as he stood, tossing the pillow back to the settee.

Rose shrugged at him, her lips twisted in a little smirk. It was bloody adorable, and he wanted to give her a good snog for how wonderfully she’d been at massaging his head, but not if she’s encouraging Jackie Tyler to come anywhere near his head with sharp objects.

“All set!” Jackie called.

Rose gave him a pointed look directly at his crotch and then cut a glance up to meet his eyes, smirk holding. “I’ll help you with that after.”

Oh, that would be brilliant, except he kind of needed it to go away _now._

“Er…”

Jackie’s mobile rang out and buzzed simultaneously, creating quite the racket against the kitchen table.

“Oh! That’ll be Pete. Sorry, it’ll be a mo’!”

The Doctor breathed a huge sigh of relief and then smiled at Rose, waggling his eyebrows. “We can skip ahead to the helping me bit. If you a want.”

Rose sauntered towards him and reached out, hooking her fingers in the waistband of his trousers and tugging him towards her. “But, what about your hair, Doctor?”

“After. I promise.” He nodded firmly, hoping it would emphasize his sincerity.

“You’ll have to keep quiet.” She winked, and then tugged him along with her towards the loo down the hall. He allowed himself to be pulled, the lopsided smile returning as his mind drifted a few seconds forward in time.


	4. Unprepared (Ten/Rose)

The Doctor held Rose’s hand in the airborne gondola, fingers entwined in a manner that made him question his principles. Yes, they were _pretending_ to be married, but this was… a level of detail he hadn’t anticipated.

They had landed on Pordurin, a floating kingdom on the planet Telish, with the intention of enjoying its annual Skyway Festival, but the Doctor had forgotten that only married couples could partake in the Currents of Eternal Happiness.  They managed to fool the ride operator, which was a relief. There were no physical symbols of matrimony in this culture, so wrapping his arm around her shoulders as they waited in line seemed to do the trick.

He looked down at their joined hands and over to Rose. She was gazing up at a cluster of small islands in the distance that were linked together by floating step stones. A quaint house dominated one of the islands and a child waved at them from the edge, his feathered wings unfurling.

Rose waved at the boy, and then squeezed the Doctor’s hand as she looked back to him, smiling. Her head was centered in a corona of sunlight, hair rustling in the gentle breeze, and he felt his hearts clench.

“You do know this is basically the Tunnel of Love, terrifying midair version, yeah?” Rose grinned.

“Weeeelll.” The Doctor scrunched up his face and tilted his head. “Technically….”

Before he could elaborate, the gondola glided under the curved lip of a small floating island Noisy waterfalls flanked each side. Rose reached out and let the water splash against her hand as they sailed past, the gondola balloon overhead just barely clearing the ceiling of stone and soil.

Once they emerged on the other side, Rose bumped his shoulder. “You were saying?”

“All right—but you admit you’re terrified?” He waggled his eyebrows.

“We are several thousand feet above a planet covered in lava and boiling hot sea.”

“No one has ever fallen to their death at the Skyway Festival.” The Doctor sniffed. “That’s their slogan.”

Rose laughed and he noticed that their hips were pressed together, knees touching. Had they always been touching? He swallowed, no longer in the mood for comically reassuring slogans. He shifted his thumb, keenly aware of the inviting warmth of her skin beneath just a few threads of fabric.

Rose must have noticed his shift in demeanor, for her smile had faded and her eyes were focused on his lower lip. Her pupils were blown wide and he heard a hitch in her breath.

“All right, time to get off.”

The Doctor blinked, wondering when his conscience had slipped into speaking to him with crude 20th century Earth slang.

Rose cleared her throat, eyes flicking over his shoulder.

The Doctor looked up to see the ride operator tying up their gondola at the skydock.

Once they had exited, the Doctor shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and Rose slid her arm through the hook of his elbow. They walked a few paces to exit the skydock and were stopped at the booth.

“We’re terribly sorry. We don’t have a record here of your wedding vows,” said the blue-feathered Telishian behind the glass, her wings curled neatly against her back.

“Errr…” The Doctor scratched the back of his neck. He searched the hundreds of thousands of wedding vow rituals in his brain.

“We’ll just need you to give a statement so we have it on file.”

Rose looked up at him, smiling with a sly glint in her eyes.

“Um. I, ah, forgot…? I forgot them.”

The gate operator arched an eyebrow, unconvinced. She glared down her beak at them.

Rose’s smirk deepened and she patted his arm affectionately. “He did. He forgot what he was going to say, he was so smitten with me. Isn’t that right, Doctor? We had to skip that bit.”

“Oh, well, I…. suppose that happens? Um. Why don’t you just quickly come up with something now? Just for the record. Promise we won’t hold you up again.”

The Doctor swallowed, his mouth going dry. He looked from the booth operator, down to Rose and back. “H—how could I possibly put into words how I feel about Rose Tyler?”

“Good enough,” she said, scribbling it down. “Sorry for the holdup. Enjoy the festival!”

The Doctor exhaled, mumbling a vague thank you, and stalked through the gate with Rose still on his arm. He stared ahead, mouth drawn to a thin line. He wasn’t blushing. He wasn’t—well, he was. Maybe she wouldn’t notice. He snuck a glance down to her to find out.

She was smiling to herself. A warm, kind smile. The smile she wore when she felt safe and loved.

He couldn’t help but tug her in closer as they walked down the main festival strip.


	5. Lazy Sundays (Ten/Rose)

“Lazy Sundays. Bah. That’s just what people say when they don’t want to admit that Sundays are _boring_.” The Doctor sighed. It was such an exaggerated, drawn out sound. He slouched in his chair, flung his head back, and dangled his arms for emphasis.

They sat together at a tiny table in an Edwardian tearoom. Quite a few people gave him withering looks for the uncouth posture of his gangly limbs.

Rose sniggered and slipped her foot out of her shoe.  She stretched out her leg under the table to rub her toe against his ankle. “That’s only ‘cos you think you should fill it with stuff to do.”

The Doctor’s brows rose, but he kept his eyes shut. “I certainly won’t sit around reading ridiculous magazines and watching junk telly all day if that’s what you have in mind.” He shifted his leg towards her.

“Didn’t have a problem with it on Tuesday.”

“That’s because… er, well.” He leaned forward and rested his chin in his hands, fixing her with a serious look. “We were specifically looking for a venomous, paper-thin alien with a penchant for gossip who liked to hide in magazines.

“Funny how we never found it.” Rose grinned, tongue touching her teeth. She took a chance and slid her toe up the side of his calf.

“That was odd, wasn’t it?” He tilted his head. “Your foot is getting higher.”

“I have an idea for how we can spend the day.”

“Oh?”

Rose blinked and smiled coyly. She toyed with the pearls around her throat as her foot drifted even higher to caress the inside of his knee. Good thing the table was draped with a massive doily.

“Oh.” The Doctor smirked against his teacup. “Good idea. Scandalizing these posh dullards with public displays of affection.” He set his teacup down and reached for her hand.

“Well—‘s’not quite what I—“

The Doctor gazed at her, eyes dark and inviting, as he stroked her wrist with his fingertip. There was a little opening above the button of her lace gloves where she found his touch particularly pleasant. She shivered.

“You were saying?”

Rose shifted in her seat and let out a breathy sigh. “No, no, this is… s’good. Yeah.”

“I think I’m enjoying Sundays a lot more already.” He lifted her hand to place a kiss on the inside of her wrist.

A lady sitting nearby in an extravagant purple hat gasped and turned away from them.


	6. Surprise (Ten/Rose)

The Doctor wandered towards the galley with a bit of a bounce to his step, hopeful visions of sitting across from Rose (with her adorable morning hair) making him feel a little giddy.  He stepped over the threshold and was plunked into pitch darkness. Not even the soft glow from the corridor penetrated it. He blinked and waved his hands around as though the gesture could conjure up light. “Oh, not again!”

“Doctor! Thank God you’re here!” Rose’s voice piped up from somewhere in the black void before him.

“Rose! All right, stay calm. This has happened before. We must’ve passed through a space-time spectre. Also known as a place where an ancient black hole used to reside, but has eroded away over billions of years to—”

“Doctor—”

“—leave a ghost of itself behind. Rose?”

“Come towards the sound of my voice.”

“Oh—okay.” He shuffled forward. “Blimey, can’t see a thing.” Good thing the layout of his galley was ingrained in his memory to a meticulously detailed degree. The sound of his trainers scuffing the floor was normal. No echoes or complete absence of sounds—which debunked his space-time spectre theory.

“Getting closer.”

He sniffed. “Why does it smell like bananas?”

“Um…”

His next step landed his foot in something squishy.

And then the lights flashed on.

Crackers burst in midair, sending confetti fluttering all around.

And then there was Rose, covered in splotches of banana custard and standing shin-deep in a kiddie pool of the stuff. His eyes flicked to the rest of the galley—finding it also covered in banana custard—and then back to Rose. Still in her dressing gown. He shook his head and looked askance, catching himself.

“What—”

“Surprise?” She lifted a shoulder and tilted her head, smiling. Her smile faltered and she bit her lip.

“Well, I am definitely surprised. And perplexed. And maybe a little bit…er…” He waved his hand. “Never mind. What a mess! Er—why am I being surprised?”

“I asked the TARDIS to help me make something to surprise you. It’s… sort of, well. I don’t know when your birthday is, and not that you have to tell me… just felt, well. Cos’ we’ve been travelling for a couple years now and. Reckoned I’d celebrate it. Didn’t go quite like I imagined.”

He looked up. _We’ll have to talk about this later_. And then looked back to Rose. A sly smile spread across his face and he reached out to drag his finger through a bit of the banana custard on her cheek. He licked the custard from his finger. “Just what _were_ you imagining?”


	7. Breakfast in Bed (Tentoo/Rose)

The Doctor wakes the morning after Bad Wolf Bay to an empty bed. Light from the rising sun reaches across the cozy little room in the bed and breakfast where they stayed for the night.  The window is cracked open and cold air breezes in making the curtains float out, twist, and fall. He shivers, pulls the multi-colored, patched quilt up to his chin. He should get used to this… this human sensitivity to the elements. It matters little, though, when he looks up to the popcorn ceiling and tries not to read too much into Rose’s absence.

They fell into bed the night before, his entire body humming with need. He recalls why they had to open the window and sinks down further under the blanket, wondering where she could be. It all floods back into his mind, how she moved beneath him, arching and moaning. How her skin flushed and her eyes were locked on his. It was embarrassing how quickly he came, but Rose reassured him with a kiss and a suggestive smile that she’d make him better.  

He turns to his side as the thought arouses him again, thinking it looks rather ridiculous tenting up the quilt like that. That’s when yet another (how many now?) human trait makes itself noticeable. He could really use a bath. He groans to himself just as he hears the door to the room click shut.

“Oh, you’re awake,” he hears Rose say behind him. He rolls over.

Her eyes re rimmed with red and he suspects it’s not from lack of sleep. “I am.”

Rose is holding two mugs of tea and balancing a bag of something that smelled like bananas and cake. He salivates and his stomach rumbles.

“I brought banana nut muffins.  S’all they had in the breakfast room,” she says as she sets a mug on the bedside table near him.

The Doctor smiles and rolls to his back. “Brilliant!”

“Happy to see me, Doctor?” Rose says as she opens the bag and tosses a muffin at him.

He catches it and takes a huge bite as he nods enthusiastically. “Always. Oh, Rose, these are fantastic!”

Rose laughs. “So is it me or the muffin, then?”

“What?” He chews as he sorts out her meaning, and then he catches sight of the rise of the quilt in his lap. “Oh.”

Rose takes a bite of her muffin and sets it down, then glides her hand up his quilt-covered thigh. Breakfast in bed is over before it barely begins.


	8. Oncoming Storm (Ten/Rose)

Rose wakes in the middle of the night, hearing thunder in the distance. She looks up at the ceiling of the blue tent she’s sharing with the Doctor and hopes the branches above will hold out. Lightning flashes and another rumble unrolls through the sky, closer this time. She curls against the Doctor and searches the depths of their blankets for his hand. Really, a storm shouldn’t worry her so much, but Pete had said something under his breath before they left about a family he knew who lost someone when a tree branch fell on their tent during a storm. It’s all she can think about. And now that a storm was actually heading their way, she began to feel properly scared. 

The Doctor squeezes her hand. “All right, Rose?”

“You checked the trees around us, yeah? Made sure they’re strong?" 

"Yes, but it’d be moot if lightning strikes,” he murmurs against her hair.

“Oi! That’s not helping! Should we go find shelter?”

“Nah, we’ll be fine.”

The rain starts then, and swiftly picks up to a downpour. Thunder crashes, shaking the very earth beneath them, and Rose watches the shadows of trees as they dance in the strobe lightning. She has a strange urge to leave the tent and go out into the chaos. To feel the pelting rain against her skin and hear the thunder in the wide open atmosphere. Before the thought enters her mind that it might not be the safest option, she does just that.

The Doctor follows her out of the tent and soon they reach a wide clearing where they can see the roiling clouds with each flash of light. Rose lifts her face and closes her eyes, letting the rain wash over her. She feels the peals of thunder in her bones, awakening some primordial part of her that finds ecstasy on the cusp of fight and flight. 

The Doctor takes her hand and that draws her out of the trance. She looks over at him, at the man who had once been known as the Oncoming Storm, and she knows why now more than ever before. She watches the rain stream through his soaked hair and smiles at the way he blinks away the drops that fall in his eyes. 

The Doctor smiles and leans down, she thinks to kiss her—but instead his lips brush her ear and she barely hears him over the storm.

“We forgot to put on clothes. Can’t say I like the way the rain feels on my bits.”


	9. You Inspire Me (Ten/Rose)

Rose finds the Doctor in the TARDIS library. He’s sitting before a hearth in an antique wingback chair, legs crossed and specs perched on his nose. As she draws near, she notes the way his brows are knit in concentration as he reads an old, cloth-bound book, his mouth drawn in a thin line. She wonders what he’s reading.

He doesn’t look up as she sits in the matching chair across from him. She feels warm in the glow of the fire and slips out of the black hoodie, gathers her hair away from her neck and holds it to the back of her head. Feels a bit like Hogwarts, she muses as her eyes roam the shelves of colorful tomes.

Still he doesn’t stir. She’s about to speak when he snaps the book shut, the sudden clap making her gasp. 

“Sorry, what?” the Doctor says, focusing on her.

“I didn’t say anything.” Rose glances down to the book cover _. Garden Gnomes, An Autobiography._ She arches an eyebrow. 

“You look lovely,” the Doctor said. “I mean, in the firelight… without that dreadful hoodie.”

“Getting courting advice from the book about mythical terracotta statues again?”

“Oh, sorry. Was that rude?” The Doctor makes a face, and then looks down at the book. “Oh, this is a fascinating story. You should read it sometime, Rose.”

“I think I’ll pass. Could we back up to when you said I looked lovely in the firelight? Cos that was nice.” Rose smiles.

The Doctor leans forward and sets the book down on a large stack of books nearby that presumably he had already read in the past hour. “I don’t have anything against your wardrobe, Rose. That one you last wore when we went to Cheskor and fell in a pit of urble larvae. You could wash it a thousand times and i’ll still smell that weird cornflake odor.”

Rose blinks. “Right. I, er… I forgot.” This was going to be one of those nights when the Doctor’s alien was showing more than usual. She felt him staring at her and she looked up to meet his eyes, fully expecting him to launch into a —

“Do you want to dance?” the Doctor says, interrupting her thoughts.

“Right now?”

“Yes, Rose Tyler.” He stands and extends his hand.

Rose grasps the offered hand and stands herself. “In the library? What’s gotten into you?” She grins. 

“Surrounded by countless stories in countless tongues from countless worlds… in the glow of firelight and surrounded by unseen stars, I can’t think of a better place in the entire universe.”

Rose lets him pull her close and lead her into a measured waltz. She lets herself get lost in his gaze for a moment. “You’re full of surprises, know that? How are you keeping time?” 

The Doctor grins. “I shouldn’t have to tell you that, my Rose.”

She smirks, feeling a bit silly. Perhaps it was the specs that made his eyes look so dark and alluring, or the way his skin warmed beneath hers. “Still got moves, Doctor.”

He pulls her in a little closer. “You inspire me.”


	10. Hedge Trimmers (Ten/Rose)

The Doctor wandered outside of the TARDIS, hedge trimmers in hand. It was early. Much too early for Rose. He smiled a little at the thought.

He had landed the TARDIS on a planet that once hosted the most extravagant gardens. They had been maintained for centuries and were suddenly and inexplicably abandoned fifty years ago.  He’d spent all night scanning the topography of the planet, searching for the perfect area for his task.

Fog settled over the grounds, encased the unkempt hedges and shrubs and other flowery arrangements in a billowy haze. He sniffed, and then inhaled through his mouth letting the cocktail of scents flow over his tongue. This was the place. Perfect.

The sky was still dark with only a hint of encroaching dawn, casting everything in swarthy, deep blue. He stepped forward to the first line of hedges, whistling a tune from childhood that no one else in the universe would remember, and began to trim off sections with preplanned precision. It would take him days. Possibly weeks.

When at last his work was complete, he finally allowed himself to rest. He headed back to the TARDIS, sweat on his brow and the hedge trimmers resting on his shoulder. Without so much as a second glance, he opened the door and went inside. He made his way to the console and set the coordinates for high in the atmosphere. Once the TARDIS had materialized there, he went to the door and opened it—looked down to view his handiwork. There it was, for all to see. He decided that he’d return as often as needed to keep it maintained, and mused at what passing ships would think. If he had his way, the whole universe would stop by to see it.

Satisfied (but somehow far more bereft), he gently closed the door.

***

The TARDIS dematerialized, creating a gentle breeze that no one felt and a whirring, almost melodious sound that no one heard. Far below on the surface of the planet, trimmed in the hedges and shrubs and flowery arrangements, was a message in a language no one else knew for a woman that no one (in this universe) would ever see again.

_Rose Tyler, I love you._


	11. Hottest Love Story (Tentoo/Rose)

_Look no further than the blossoming romance between fashion heiress Mireille Chevalier and playboy inventor John “the Doctor” Smith. The couple was seen at last night’s opening gala sharing an intimate moment. Could it be true love? Could Mlle. Chevalier possibly be the most important woman in Mr. Smith’s life? Their tête-à-têtet just might rival any accomplishment previously known about the mysterious Doctor. This confirms that earlier speculation of a possible romance with Vitex heiress Rose Tyler was entirely false._

“Roooose…” The Doctor held the tablet at arm’s length as the blocky, bold font glared starkly at him from the crisp, white background. He was sitting on the sofa, still in his jimjam trousers, a white t-shirt and stunningly mussed hair (he always thought he looked best after a morning shag), with an untouched mug of tea on the end table.

Rose wandered up behind him and leaned against the sofa, warm cuppa in her hands. “Hmm?” She yawned.

“Who is Mireille Chevalier?”

“Um… oh, she’s the daughter of Antoine Chevalier, that fashion designer out of Paris,” she peered over his shoulder. “Why?”

“I promise I’m not in love with her. I don’t even know who she is! Did I even meet her? We did go to that gala last night, but I thought I was with you the entire time—except when I was watching the nibbles. The crab puffs were delightful! I tried to save you one but it ended up getting in the way of the chocolate-covered strawberries, so I had to eat it. I’m sorry; I only have so many hands, you know. Did you know that the—“

“Doctor, what does it say?” Rose prompted. She blew a stray strand of hair from her face.

“Oh, er… here.” He handed her the tablet.

Rose set down her mug and scrolled through the article. As she read, she bit at her bottom lip and her eyebrows lowered.

The Doctor watched, terror in his eyes. He was one hundred percent certain that he did not love this Chevalier woman. Rose had to know that. She had to. Her face was going all serious, though. Was she hurt? Was she going to throw her tea at him? He grabbed a pillow just in case.

Rose’s eyebrow cocked and she frowned.

 _Oh, Rose_. He swallowed and zipped and unzipped the pillow cover nervously. How could they write such rubbish about him? And ‘playboy inventor?’ That was laughable to the thousandth degree. He was the most intelligent bloke on the planet and they relegate this imaginary tryst to his highest accomplishment? Oh, dear, she finished reading. Here it comes.

“Rose I don’t know what they’re talking about, honest!” He jumped up and took the tablet from her, flinging it to the sofa. “I love you! Only you. Forever; I promise.” He took her hands in his and fell to his knees.

Rose tilted her head and watched him, a slow smile spreading across her face.

He searched her eyes. “You know that, right? Am I a playboy? Rose this is serious, why are you smirking?” He practically quivered with anxiety. He placed copious gentle kisses across the back of her hand, her knuckles, her wrist. He turned her hand over and kissed her fingertips. “Please say something. You’re the only woman for me. I wouldn’t make such a valiant attempt to save such a delicious crab puff for anyone, you know.”

Rose broke out in a peal of laughter. “Oh, Doctor!” She knelt down to him and took his face gently between her hands. “Of course I believe you, you barmy git.”

The Doctor slouched against her, deflating with relief.

Rose smiled as she held him against her, stroking the soft hairs on the back of his neck. “There, there, Doctor. You should know I know better than to believe that bullocks.”

The Doctor wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him so tightly that she squeaked. “What do we have to do to get the tabloids to write lurid reports about us?”

Rose squirmed a bit until he loosened his grip. “Ooh, I like the way you think. We’d have to go separately.”

He kept his arms around her, though loose enough so they could gaze at each other. “And leave together.”

“Mmm. With a bit of covert snogging in between while we spend the majority of our time talking with other people. Gotta make it seem like we’re hiding something.”

 “When’s the next public event?” The Doctor looked up thoughtfully, tongue grazing the edge of his top teeth. “Oh! I know—we can put one on ourselves. I’ll do the menu.”

Rose laughed. “You’d put on a fancy gala just to pretend to have an affair with me so we can read scandalous stories about us the next day?”

The Doctor nodded. “That, Rose Tyler, is how much I love you.”

“I love you to, you brilliant nutter.” Rose giggled and pulled him in for a long, passionate kiss of approval.


	12. Ireland (Ten/Rose & Tentoo/Rose)

_“Ireland the planet, Rose,_ _” the Doctor said as they stepped out of the TARDIS._ _“Technically it's a moon_ _—oh, you should see the planet rise! We'll definitely stay long enough to see it._ _” The Doctor waved her on with a grin as wide as the fields surrounding them._ _“There_ _’s a festival over the hill, let_ _’s go!_ _”_

_\--_

“Here we are, Rose. The beautiful Irish countryside,” the Doctor said as he took Rose’s hand, their fingers entwining. They’d been hiking for a couple days now and found themselves in a remote region along the eastern shore.

“Oh, it’s gorgeous.” Rose smiled after taking a long pull from her waterskin.

“Mm.” The Doctor took a swig himself and then squinted at the bright, late afternoon sunlight reflecting off of the vibrant purple and green hills. “Inspiration for poets and bards throughout the centuries—which is still true in this universe, I was rather glad to find out.”

_\--_

_They traversed the emerald green landscape, which was not dissimilar to Earth_ _’s Ireland, towards the village in the distance. The Doctor practically skipped around her as he went on about the history of this beautiful world._ _“This moon was one of Earth_ _’s earliest off world settlements, along with the planets Kenya, Japan and Cree_ _—all in orbit around this same gorgeous gas giant. This Ireland still has clovers and Guinness, but don_ _’t ask about Lucky Charms. They get testy just thinking about it._ _”_

_“Why not?_ _”_

_“Here, Lucky Charms are an invasive rodent that looks cute from a distance, but don_ _’t go petting one._ _” He chomped and made a face, sticking out his tongue._ _“Venom that turns your skin all colors of the rainbow._ _”_

_“Got it. No lucky charms_ _—whatever that is._ _” Rose bounded along with him, giggling at his antics._ _“Any leprechauns here, Doctor?_ _”_

_“Oh, Rose, I_ _’m glad I_ _’m here to filter your questions before you talk to the locals._ _” He smirked._ _“Nah, you_ _’ll find leprechauns and other members of the Tuatha D_ _é Danann, which your world refers to as the faerie folk, back on their home world_ _—Anu_ _”_

_“You mean fairies are real?_ _” Rose hopped._ _“Let_ _’s go there next!_ _”_

_\--_

The Doctor spread out a blanket and they took a seat to admire the view.

“You see those ruins there beyond the heather? Used to be a monastery long ago. Before that, a place sacred to the pagans who came before them. Before you ask—there aren’t Leprechauns here. Not from what I can tell. Probably shouldn’t ask the locals, either.” He grinned at her.

Rose nodded, watching him instead. She studied every subtle gesture and lilt in his tone, loving everything about him just as she always had. Sometimes he was so much the same as the Time Lord, especially in moments like this, that she felt insecure. He’d told her that he loved her on the beach, and that should’ve vanquished her doubts. Still, he hadn’t kissed her since and she was afraid to initiate anything further.

_\--_

_After spending the day at the festival, the Doctor took Rose to a high hill where they could watch the planet rise. The sun was setting behind them, and the sky was at war with a riot of color_ _—purples and pinks and oranges and blues. It was breathtaking._

_They sat side-by-side on his coat, and after a few minutes, Rose felt his finger brushing against her hand. She glanced over at him, heat rising to her cheeks, but he was looking straight ahead at the horizon. Eventually his entire hand had closed over hers, and she felt his thumb stroking the outside of her wrist. She was dizzy with love and expectation._

_Still, he didn_ _’t look at her_  

_\--_

Rose leaned against the Doctor as they watched the sun set over the hills, casting the ruins into silhouette. She felt his hand cover hers and his thumb stroking her wrist, and she closed her eyes, a distant memory drifting to her mind to stir her fears further.

_\--_

_At last, the immense edge of the gas giant came into view on the horizon. It was so massive that it overtook the sky, and Rose fell back to the ground to watch. The Doctor fell back with her, still holding her hand. With each passing moment, Rose became acutely aware of where his leg and hip and shoulder touched hers. She fought to keep her gaze upward, as disorienting as the spectacle was, for looking at the Doctor might make her do something she_ _’d regret._

_They watched in silence until the entire atmosphere was transformed into whirling ribbons of undulating gas, and Rose imagined that the marbled whirlwinds of Jupiter would look similar from one of its moons._

_Again, she felt his thumb brush against her wrist and she sighed, her eyes falling shut._

_“Rose, look,_ _” the Doctor said. He shifted beside her._

_\--_

The sunset looked like any other sunset, and Rose found that she liked the dark, ragged edges of the ruins more than the sky itself.

“Rose, look,” the Doctor said, holding out his hand.

Rose looked down to see the glinting silver of a Claddagh in his palm. She bit her lip as dread washed through her.

_\--_

_Rose sat up on her elbow and looked down to see a ring shimmering in his palm. Her hair fell in her face and she brushed it behind her ear, keeping her trembling hand there to steady it by twisting her earring._

_“It_ _’s called a Claddagh. There_ _’s a rather romantic tale behind this ring, and it seems the vendors here are trying to keep the tradition alive even to this day._ _” He smirked._ _“Here, why don_ _’t you wear it?_ _” He took her left hand and slid it onto her ring finger._

_Rose studied the ring. Two hands clasping a heart that wore a crown. The hands appeared to be holding the heart towards her as an offering._ _“It_ _’s beautiful._ _” Her heart galloped in her chest. She smiled a little, licking her lips and knowing she was turning as pink as the sky._ _“What_ _—what does it mean?_ _”_

_\--_

Rose’s eyes searched his, unsure what to expect. Her throat felt constricted. She’d probably throw the bloody ring over the hill this time. She felt as though she were standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting to find out if she’d fly or fall if she took one more step. The Doctor took her left hand and slid the ring down her ring finger, his eyes never leaving her face. She kept her gaze locked with his.

Her breathing nearly stopped as he withdrew his hand.

_\--_

_“Oh, the hands represent friendship, the crown loyalty, and the heart undying love. It was made to symbolize a faithful love that outlasted years of separation and continued on forever once they were finally reunited,_ _” he said in a matter-of-fact tone not unlike how he_ _’d have explained the genetic composition of slime molds._

_Rose gazed at the ring in disbelief, her heart so full of joy that she could dance._ _“Doctor, I_ _—”_

_“When worn on the right hand, facing out, it symbolizes that the wearer has yet to find true love. When worn facing in, the wearer is likely in love, but the love is unrequited. On the left hand, the love is requited and will last forever._ _”  He smiled to himself and looked back towards the sky._ _“I think it_ _’s the same here. Funny how on most worlds, the heart represents love. Except on Pywit the heart is actually a symbol of indigestion and on Yylee it means help._ _” He shrugged._

_Rose barely heard what he said after he described the current position of the ring on her right hand. Unrequited love. Why should she have expected anything else? She was too angry to cry and too humiliated to argue, so she just nodded and looked back up at the planet looming in the sky, wanting it to crush them._

_The following morning as she was getting ready for a visit with her mother, she pulled on a fuzzy pale blue jumper and the ring caught on it, dragging a little snag in the thread. She swore and wrenched the ring from her finger and chucked it on her bedside table._

_When she went out to meet the Doctor in the console room, a big grin bloomed on his face at the sight of her. He gave her a sudden, unexpected hug, spinning her around and took her hand as he set her on her feet. She set aside her troubles, not wanting to disturb his affectionate mood, and they bounded out of the TARDIS together._

_\--_

Rose finally looked down at the ring to see that it was facing inward. Left hand. Inward. She closed her eyes, feeling foolish for doubting him. It had only been two months, the wounds were relatively fresh, and old habits died hard.

He leaned in and kissed her, making her gasp. A quick, but heartfelt press of his lips against hers. “I loved you then, you know. It’s just a silly ring and I was a daft bastard.”

She laughed and bumped his shoulder with hers. “Won’t argue with that.”

“Which—that I was a daft bastard or that it’s just a silly ring?”

“Both,” she said.

He laughed. “Quite right.”

As she looked back down at the ring, she tilted her head, smiling as she went over the story of the ring in her mind. She then looked up at him, sensing his eyes on her again.

“I love you, too,” she said, and the sunset went ignored.

 


	13. Confetti Kiss (Nine/Rose)

The Doctor glowered through the swarm of confetti. Bits of it soon became stuck in his hair and clung to his leather jacket. Rose laughed and spun around as the colorful bits of paper rained around her. She bounded up to him and poked his chest. 

"You look properly disturbed!" Rose teased. "You won, fair and square. They’re cheering for you, Doctor."

"It’ll take days to get this stuff out of my clothes, Rose."

"Well, then how would you celebrate?"

He considered her question for a moment, uncrossing his arms. The confetti storm began to taper off, leaving only a few remaining colors drifting through the air. “I could eat a banana.”

Rose smirked. “Well, then why don’t you? Sure there’s a banana here somewhere.”

The Doctor leaned in and kissed her, but she wasn’t expecting it and he ended up kissing a mouthful of hair. He sputtered out the golden strands and tried again, but this time kissed her chin because she had leaned her head back to laugh. He made a frustrated noise as he grabbed her shoulders to hold her still.

"I’m trying to kiss you, Rose," he said sternly.

Rose went still and looked up at him, her eyes dark and wide. “I thought you wanted to eat a banana.”

The Doctor was about to retort when he noticed she had confetti in her nostril. He snorted at the sight, his shoulders shaking with the effort not to laugh. 

"What? Something on my face?" Rose blinked.

The Doctor just shook his head, cupped her face with his hands and leaned in to press a kiss against her lips.


	14. Underwater (Ten/Rose)

The Doctor swam towards Rose as she floated on her back, eyes closed and completely nude, in the clear-water lagoon. His first instinct was to splash her or swim under her and tickle her sides without warning. But she just looked so at ease. Instead, he took her hand and kissed her knuckles.

She opened her eyes and smiled at him. “Wotcha.”

The Doctor grinned. "You seem to be enjoying this place."

Rose ducked underwater and bobbed up, head tossed back to keep her hair from floating over her face. She circled her arms around his shoulders. “It’s so lovely. An entire planet to ourselves.”

The Doctor wrapped his arms around her waist and kicked his legs, coasting them gently through the water. Rose leaned back into the momentum as he swam with her under him, their heads and shoulders still above the surface He kissed her, gently at first, and as her fingers raked through his wet hair, his kiss grew more intense until they had to stop moving through the water. 

Rose parted from him to catch her breath and then ducked underwater. The Doctor followed and their lips found each other once more. This was honestly a first for him. Kissing underwater. He exhaled in a flurry of bubbles as he melted against her. Her hands found his bare bottom as her legs slipped around his waist. 

He brought them up to the surface so she could breathe and their foreheads met.

Rose smiled after inhaling, and brushed her nose against his. “Your best date yet.”


	15. Kiss in the Rain (Ten/Rose)

Rose ran down the cobblestone walkway to find the alley where the TARDIS was parked, trainers splashing through puddles and soaking her trousers up to the knees. The rain was relentless on this planet. The Doctor had warned her, but she really wanted to pop over to the covered market to get a few pouches of tea for the road. It was some of the best tea she’d tasted in the universe so far.

As she rounded the corner, she found the Doctor standing there, perfectly dry, holding a giant frond over his head. “I told you, Rose. Didn’t I?”

Rose joined him under the enormous leaf. “Oi, it was worth it!” 

"Yeah, yes it really was, I suppose." And then he tossed the leaf to the ground.

Rose was in mid-hair-wring when he scooped her up and twirled her around. 

"My Rose, ever the opportunistic one." He grinned and kissed her forehead.

Rose stared up at him as rivulets of raindrops streamed down his face and soaked his hair. “Better get inside or it’ll be absorbed in my clothes.”

The Doctor made a face. “Eh, we’d have to squeeze it out of your shirt to drink it.”

"My shirt is clean, I’ll have you know," said Rose.

But the Doctor suddenly looked awfully distracted. She didn’t have a chance to figure out what it was that had caught his attention. She soon found herself in his arms once more. He leaned in and placed a soft kiss at the corner of her lips. 

Rose’s lips parted in disbelief, but she managed to gather enough wits to move her mouth against his. Soon, they were kissing in earnest, pouring rain be damned. 


	16. The Fight (Tentoo/Rose)

They weren’t sure how it started. That’s usually how it is, though, and it only made Rose feel more flustered. She couldn’t put it into words. Did she need to? Apparently so with the way he glared at her. She didn’t owe him an objective analysis of how they ended up in separate rooms. Why did it fucking matter how it started? Of course, he had a response ready—to avoid this argument in the future. She slammed the door after that. Mostly because his voice made her want to throw a baby unicorn in a pit of hungry lions right now. Though, a little bit of it was because he was right, she just wasn’t in a place to mend fences right now. Voices from her past rose up to guilt her as she sat on the edge of their bed.

_You can be such a bitch, Rose!_

_You always do this. Calm down!_

_Oh, don’t start, Rose. God._

The Doctor hadn’t said any of those things, but she heard them all the same. One minute they were joking about the upcoming Vitex New Year’s party and the next… well, it had gotten quite ugly. Sheltered in the silent room, she began to analyze where things went wrong.

_“Do we have to go?”  The Doctor tacked on towards the end of a fit of laughter._

_“We skipped the last one, so yeah. Kinda have to.” Rose finished drying the wine glass and set it back on the shelf._

_“It’s just… I’m rubbish at all this fraternizing. Welll, I’m actually quite brilliant at it, but I have a limit, Rose. So many parties.” He was washing dishes and handing them to Rose for drying. Had on an apron and everything._

_“Just stick to the nibbles as usual and it’ll be over before you know it.” Rose said, tugging him by his apron strap with a teasing smile._

_The Doctor smiled and let himself be pulled into her arms. “I’ll wash dishes in nothing but an apron next time if we can stay home.” He waggled his eyebrows._

_Rose laughed and swatted at him playfully. “I’d love to see that. But you have to, ‘m afraid.”_

_“Rose, we just got back from a really dangerous mission. You know I only wanted to do the consulting short term, but there we were again. And another one is on the horizon and you haven’t turned it down yet. We have to say no at some point.”_

That’s when it had fallen apart. It wasn’t so much his words that had bothered her. It was the abrupt switch from flirting to The Torchwood Issue. It upset her on many levels. Firstly, she was rather aroused at the Doctor doing dishes with her in an apron. Wanted to have her way with him right there in the kitchen with the faucet still running and soap bubbles spilling out over the counter. And beyond that, the crux of the Torchwood Issue was her safety and how much of a concern it had always been to him. _Don’t go running off._ Making this choice for her, that choice, and sending her to another universe without asking. She thought he’d learnt his lesson. And perhaps now that his own mortality was on the table as worthy of concern, he felt the very human tendency to project it on others and she happened to be in his line of fire. Lastly, well… it all just came to a head.

_Rose removed her hands from his apron ties and turned away from him to stack the dried plates as noisily as possible._

_“What? It’s true.”_

_“You can stay home. I’ll go by myself.”_

_“Oh, good. I mean, if you’re sure…”_

_Rose dropped her fists on the counter and sighed. “Yeah.”_

_“You don’t seem sure. You seem very cross, in fact.”_

_“Because I am! Doctor, we go through this every time. You whine about not wanting to go visit mum and Tony. You whine about having to go to Vitex events, or it’s the Torchwood situation. I feel like you don’t want to have anything to do with what’s important in my life!”_

_The Doctor looked stricken by her words. “Really, Rose?” He sighed, rubbed his eyes, tugged at his ear and turned away from her to get started on the pots left in the sink. “Is Torchwood really that important to you?”_

_“Maybe? They know I’m capable, smart. Learnt a lot of things there and was able to apply myself in a way that I never had before. It was there for me when you weren’t.” That last bit came out before she could stop it._

_“That’s a low blow, even from you.”_

_“Even from me? What’s that supposed to mean?” She rounded on him, furious._

_The Doctor dropped the pot he’d been scrubbing and waved his hand vaguely in frustration. “You know I’d be there for you if I could’ve been!”_

_“Yeah, well, you weren’t. I had to get on somehow, yeah? ”_

_“What is going on, Rose? Why are we fighting?” His demeanor switched and he became concerned. “Are you, ah…”_

_“Don’t you dare say it.”_

_“I was just checking if possibly you were menstruating? I know that sometimes it can make women—“_

_“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Rose slammed the cabinet and rushed past him, bumping him roughly with her shoulder. It was an accident, the bumping, but she didn’t apologize._

_The Doctor followed her out of the kitchen. “I’m sorry. I was joking; trying to lighten the mood. Rose, you know Torchwood makes me uncomfortable. Meddlers, they are, and reverse engineering alien tech can have dangerous consequences. Some things aren’t meant to be discovered yet.”_

_Rose rounded on him. “ What? Are you having me on right now? Making my feelings into a joke is not going to lighten my mood! You are so thick sometimes. I am done talking to you!”_

_“You know I’m right about Torchwood!” the Doctor yelled after her as she stormed down the hall to the bedroom._

_“Fuck Torchwood!  And you can definitely stay home from the god damn party now.”_

_“Your language is deplorable. I can’t reason with you like this.”_

_Rose felt like crying. She didn’t respond, just pushed into their bedroom. He was right on her heels, though._

_“Why are we even fighting? I thought you were about to kiss me and suddenly we’re in a huge row.”_

_Rose just made a noise of immense frustration and shoved him out of the room, slamming the door in his face._

She sighed and stared up at the ceiling as it played over in her mind yet again. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but she was thankful he’d taken the hint when she closed the door. As time passed, she began to wonder what he was doing.  He hadn’t left the flat, unless he did so with intentional stealth. She stood and paced the room. Struggled with wanting to go and apologize or give him the silent treatment for a bit longer. He’d been rather rude, after all.

A meek knocking at the door made her stop in her tracks. “What is it?”

“I’m sorry, Rose. Can I come in?” The Doctor sounded genuinely despondent.

“Yeah,” she said. Still an edge to her voice. She decided it was still warranted.

But when the door opened and the Doctor walked in starkers except for the frilly apron, Rose burst out in laughter.

“Does that mean you forgive me?” the Doctor said, lighting up at the sight of her smile.

“I accept your peace offering, how’s that?” Rose smirked and crooked her finger at him to beckon him over.

The Doctor was before her in seconds. His head dipped down to kiss her, but paused before touching her lips, still uncertain.

Rose lifted up on her toes to close the distance and kissed his bottom lip, her favorite lip. “I’m sorry, too, Doctor.”


	17. Ghost (Eleven/Rose, Clara)

The Doctor studied the console screen, finding that what he saw made very little sense. The image displayed was of underwater ruins—remnants of the ancient city Yemares that once thrived three thousand years ago on the planet Avresh. But, they were on Edris IV, a planet that has yet to evolve intelligent life.

“What are you doing here? Light-years away from home…” the Doctor squinted at the readings being picked up by TARDIS scanners. A grin slowly spread across his face. “I know where we’re going next. Clara!”

But she wasn’t there. He whirled around when she didn’t answer. _Where’d she get off to? She was right there a moment ago._ “Clara?”

No response, save for the pulsing rhythm of the time rotor. Perhaps she hadn’t just been there. He shrugged and set the coordinates on the console to guide the TARDIS down into the ruins.

“Let’s see…” he jerked the screen over to another section of the control panel, where he tapped into the TARDIS interior mapping system. Normally not one to spy on his companion’s whereabouts, he had made an exception with Clara. Ever since she’d gotten lost in the labyrinthine corridors and found her way to the centre of the TARDIS, she’d developed an unconscious habit of doing so again and again. Even though he’d taken her memories, her body hadn’t forgotten. She never quite reached any of the rooms he found before. He always devised a reason to call her back to the console room. A unique, sunless planet; a nebula he thought looked quite a lot like a koala jumping rope. The misplaced underwater ruins should do well this time.

Ah, there she was. In what he called the Memory Room. A place where he kept bits and bobs from his travels—things that piqued his interest, or items of emotional significance. Reminders of his friends and foes, or his past selves. He spun away from the monitor and tapped his bottom lip with a finger. Not good. She was already _in_ the room. It wasn’t so much that she shouldn’t go in there. He’d just rather her not. Some things were meant to be forgotten. But, on the off chance at some unknown point in the future he decided that he wanted to remember… the room was there.

Of course, he didn’t have to go after her. It’s not like he had anything in there that would incriminate him. Or did he? Maybe he should just trust her and stay put. But his feet had already started the journey. Apparently, right now, he didn’t care for anyone else to knowing what he wasn’t in the mood to remember, not that it surprised him much.

At some point between the moment he turned away from the monitor and the moment he reached the room, Clara had found something that caught her interest enough to inspire her to pick it up. She hadn’t noticed his presence yet, and he simply watched her through the open-backed shelves as she inspected the object. Her brows were knit and her lip was drawn in that way it does when she’s confused. Or did she do that when she was curious? He’d have to pay closer attention. It wasn’t until he stepped into the row of shelves in which she stood that he could finally see what it was she had in her little hands.

_No…_

The Doctor rushed forward and snatched the object from her, his mood shifting rather instantly from impartial to panicked. “Clara, you shouldn’t be in here.”

“You should lock your doors! Why’ve you got a woman’s shirt under a glass case?” she asked. “There are some really bizarre things in here, Doctor.”

But, he barely acknowledged her words. He’d heard them, but they didn’t quite matter at the moment. For the first time in over two centuries he was holding Rose’s shirt. The one that smelled like applegrass and fake floral cleansers and pheromones. He stared at it, thumb brushing over the synthetic material and imagining her warm skin underneath.

“Doctor?” Clara’s voice called, though the sound took centuries to reach his brain.

He felt himself shaking with the attempt to remain in control of his emotions. His fingers clenched the fabric and he brought it to his face, a whimper wrenching past his carefully constructed mental armor. It sounded like a scream to his ears, and he inhaled to swallow it back down, which only made matters worse. The scents lingering in the purple and blue garment flooded his senses, crashed through his nerves like an exploding star, powerful and bright. He could see her smiling at him, golden hair fluttering in a breeze—a hill of applegrass spreading out around them. This in turn opened the vault to other memories.

His hands (larger then, much like his ears had been) sifting through a pile of dust on a dingy concrete floor. Fear that he’d lost her overwhelming him, pulling him under with a current stronger than time. Bewildered at the very notion of a universe without her. Oh, how ironic that seemed now. The surge of joy upon seeing her face again. Her whisky eyes and tongue-touched smile.

The vision shifted. A windswept beach, the pulsing roar of cold, grey waves. Rose, standing before him, tears drying in the salted air. He could hear her voice telling him that she loves him as clearly as he could that day. He ached at the sound, even after all this time. The ache was primordial, a dark, creeping thing that rose up from the depths of his soul; through the millions of memories he’d built between now and then. It clutched at his hearts with rusted claws, pulling at scar tissue he forgot was still there, still quick to make him flinch.

He shook his head, ridding himself of the memory. Another was quick to arise like loose sand settling in its absence. A battle-ravaged street. Her silhouette at the end of a long line of abandoned cars and debris. She was a goddess when she stepped into view, just like when he took the time vortex from her, all golden and luminous in the harsh streetlights. He remembered how desperately he wanted to reach her and crush her body against his. To kiss her until the entire world fell away and nothing was left but them. He could’ve lived forever in that kind of void. He found that his anger at the dalek that had interrupted their union was just as fierce as it had been back then. Rose’s face had hovered over him, worried—terrified—after the fatal shot, and his anger was forgotten.

A thousand different memories of breath-crushing hugs and coy smiles soon overtook him.  Of her hand warm in his, of the quiet, close moments that made him all too certain that he loved this woman more than anything began to well up inside of him. All Rose, all unfettered from the dust shed by layers of newer memories.

He realized at some point he had fallen to his knees.

But, something was wrong. It seemed that his memory was more vivid than the smell itself. He inhaled again, and, suspicion confirmed, his hands fell away from his face, shirt still cradled in his palms. “It’s fading…”

Clara, whom he could see out of his periphery, shadowed and blurred like a ghost, took a hesitant step closer. “What?”

“The last trace of someone who was very important to me,” he said and rose to his feet. He brushed past Clara, knocking her a bit. He hadn’t meant to be brusque, but he had to preserve what was left. He folded the shirt with shaking hands and placed it back under the glass.

“I’m sorry,” Clara said.

The Doctor gave the shirt one final look and turned back to Clara. He straightened his posture and adjusted his bowtie as though the act had the power to suppress everything he’d just experienced. Oddly enough, it did. “Clara, you should see what I’ve stumbled across out there. Underwater ruins! But, the curious bit is it’s not supposed to exist on this planet. Would you like to go for a swim?”


	18. Undercover (Ten/Rose)

The Doctor cradled Rose in his arms as he executed a flawless dip, her head falling back to expose her throat to his gaze. But he looked beyond it towards the hallway just a few paces away.  

“That’s it. Has to be.”

Rose spied the hallway as well from her inverted vantage point.

“You sure this time? We’ve tried five hallways already.”

“Yep. It’s the only one left, so.” He blinked as he looked back at her and sucked in a little breath.

Her bosom was lovely, he decided. Well, he’d decided that long ago, but it was particularly lovely encased in Tanmarish silk brocade with little crystal droplets glistening— _stop it_. He meant to look her in the eye, honest, but she was so close to his face, and really it couldn’t be helped.

He pulled her back up carefully, and watched how her hair settled back against her shoulders instead.

“Fifth time’s a charm.” She smiled, face flushed from being upside-down. Her eyes darted to his mouth and back up with a suspicious squint.

The Doctor’s throat felt awfully dry as he smiled back, turning them swiftly to distract her.

“That’s what they say here on Tanmar. Fifth time’s a charm! Really believe in the power of _trying_ here. You humans could learn a thing or two from them. So impatient with your meagre three tries.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “Maybe we’re just trying only three times ‘cos we only _need_ three times, yeah? We’re better at it.”

“Better at what?” He cocked his head.

She laughed. “Shut up and spin me.”

They spun a few times in harmony with the other dancers, only they couldn’t quite do the tail thing seeing as how they had no tails. But this lot didn’t have to know about that little detail, thanks to a bit of a perception filter tweak.

They rounded the floor, following the intricate pattern of twirling and swaying and stepping away from each other to pose in each of the thirteen sacred stances. When they reached the hallway in question once more, they snuck off with hands clasped into its dark reaches.

“Think anyone noticed?” Rose asked in a whisper, nearly bumping into him as he stopped to inspect a panel in the wall.

“Oh, they’ve suspected us all along.” He smiled and tugged her with him into the doorway that slid open.

“What?!”

“Shhh! We’ve got about seventy-four seconds till the alarms go off. They’re not quite aware that we’re gone yet.” He darted into a side room. “Aha! Here it is.”

Tucked away in the corner was the cache of stolen tech, surrounded by security lasers.

“Yes!” She grinned and patted his arm as he bumped her side in celebration. “But, how’re we going to get past the security lasers and carry it all back to the TARDIS in seventy-four seconds?”

“Fifty-one seconds now.”

“Guess we’re making a run for it.”

He winked. “It’s what we do best.”

“If they don’t know we’re gone, then how are they going to sound the alarms in thirty seconds or however much is left?”

“You stand here and hold in that button whilst I sonic the laser receptors. That’ll short circuit everything, which will trigger the alarm.” He dashed across the room, wielding the sonic.

“Oh, we’re sounding the alarms for them! Brilliant! How kind of us.” Rose hovered her finger over the button he’d indicated.

“Thought so myself.” He gave a preening grin and aimed his sonic. “Now!”

A whir of the sonic and press of the button later, the lasers blipped off and their receptors began to smoke. The Doctor grabbed the case of stolen tech and slung the heavy-duty strap over his shoulder, alarms screaming all around.

They made a run for it, back through the halls and into the ballroom—which in hind sight was probably not the best path to take, but the Doctor couldn’t resist twirling Rose around once more amongst the panicking dancers. (Also not the best decision, considering his cumbersome haul. His back would remind him of that later).

They reached the TARDIS just in time, and slipped off into the time stream. The Doctor set a course for the rightful owners of the stolen goods, and turned to Rose.

She was in the midst of a little dance; a jubilant variation of sacred stance number ten, when he slipped his arms around her waist and joined her.

Rose laughed, settling her arms around his shoulders.

“Can’t believe I spent two weeks on that planet learning that ridiculous dance to not even get to finish it.”

He waggled his eyebrows. “We can finish it right now.”

Rose smiled, tongue grazing her teeth. “You’re on.”

The Doctor led her around the console room, reenacting the dance to the music of the time rotor. When it came time to dip her, he held her a bit more closely than he had before. He also was very pleased with his ability to study the arch of her neck, and the line of her jaw, and _not_ how wonderful her breasts looked in the dress.

When he eased her back up to standing, the look in her eyes set his hearts into a gallop. She lined her body up with his, and her hand slid along his shoulder to his nape. His entire body tingled at the feel of her fingertips against the back of his neck.

“I don’t remember this part of the dance,” he said with a swallow.

She looked away shyly, bringing her hands back to the tops of his shoulders. “Got carried away.”

“S’all right. I rather liked that adaptation.”

“Yeah?” She looked up, catching his eyes with hers.

“Yep.”

His hands splayed on her back, grazing her sides with his thumbs.

Her breath hitched. “I don’t remember that bit.”

“We were never the sort for following rules, were we?”

He stepped apart from her, and twirled her around so the jump seat passed under their arched arms. Her skirt flared out, its many beads gleaming in the ambient TARDIS light. They came back together just as the TARDIS dematerialized at their destination, her skirts swishing against his legs.

“Time to set things right with the Veloxians.” The Doctor said, his voice low.

Rose tilted her head, their dance winding down to a gentle side-to-side sway. “Another thing we do best, yeah?”

He hummed, holding her tightly. “Though, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to make ‘em wait just a little bit longer.”


	19. Memory (Ten/Rose)

> _Mickey frowned. ‘When my mate Vic asked you to pose for him, you said no.’_
> 
> _Rose sighed. ‘Yeah, but lying on a sheepskin rug in my undies while your mate Vic takes photos isn’t quite the same as posing as a goddess for some ancient Roman.’_
> 
> _The Doctor had put on his glasses and was examining the statue’s remaining hand. ‘Hmm,’ he said._
> 
> _\- excerpt from The Stone Rose_

 

And of course the Doctor was quick to change the subject back then. He’d been focusing on inspecting the incredibly Rose-like statue before them, and they needed to move along with the mystery. But in that moment, his impressive mind had created a special cove in which the image of Rose lounging in her knickers on a sheepskin rug would reside until it could be revisited at a more appropriate time. But he should have known that he couldn’t just tuck it away like that. Rose could never be a mere mental keepsake, nor would the vision ever remain still.

It became a living, breathing thing almost as soon as the words entered his mind, moving in slow motion through the pleasure center of his brain. Every time he’d close his eyes, it would illuminate, glinting across synapses and neurons. Of course, he’d be the one taking the pictures. Rose’s chest would rise and fall as she posed for each flash of the camera. Her lips would part and eyes would flutter closed in anticipation as he’d finally put the camera down and move to join her. She’d sigh, a beautiful, blissful sound, as he’d linger over her, his rough hand sliding up her smooth thigh.

The visual followed him throughout the entire adventure. Guided his hands in the creation of her sculpture. Haunted him in the days after she’d been torn from his life by the cruel indifference of the void.  Demanded his attention for years until one sunny morning, single heart beating in his chest, he could contain it no more as he gazed at her over a shared stack of strawberry compote-covered waffles.

“I have a brilliant idea, Rose,” he said, stabbing a fork into a syrup-covered strawberry she’d just been about to take for herself.

“More brilliant than stealing my bites?” Rose smiled in spite of a growing spark of irritation after a third stolen bite.

“Oh, loads. Do we have a sheepskin rug? Actually, any rug would work. There’s something I’ve wanted to do for a really long time.” 


	20. Tesco (Ten/Rose Retail AU)

Rose screamed internally as a couple with a loaded trolley joined her checkout queue behind her current customer. Her break was supposed to have started forty minutes ago, and she hadn't eaten nearly all day. Not to mention her feet felt like throbbing stumps of agony, and she still shook from the earlier incident with the angry customer who had called her a stupid twit (complete with a spittle shower) because she’d entered a price incorrectly and had to redo his entire order. She had been triple checking the receipts every time since.

The woman with the loaded trolley began placing items on the belt in very strategic arrangements, while the man flipped through his massive coupon stack. That was going to be a fun one. She took a breath to conjure patience, and finished with her current customer.

“Have a nice day.” Rose smiled despite her mounting exhaustion.

The customer snatched his bags, and walked off without a word. Before Rose could let it affect her, her manager caught her eye, signaling to turn off her light for her break. Relieved, Rose flipped the switch.

The man with the coupon book cast a panicked glance at her light. “But we’ve already put our stuff down!” 

"It’s all right, I’ll get you. Did you find everything you need?" Rose tried her best to maintain the smile as he reached the register.

"Yes, thanks,” he grumbled, not meeting her eye.

“Great.” _Believe me, mate, I don’t wanna talk to you much either._  

Rose began processing their purchases, knowing that each item she bagged was one step closer to diving into a basket of chips. Finally, after a half-hearted conversation about the weather, turning away three annoyed customers from her queue, entering a slew of coupons (that thankfully all worked), and a total bill of £123.87, she sent the couple on their way. She then removed her till, signed out of her register, and stepped away from her checkout lane to lock away her till.

With a sigh of relief, she headed towards the back to fetch her handbag. There was a special route she took to avoid being flagged down by anyone, and she almost made it, but when she rounded an aisle of breakfast cereals, an interesting conversation between customers an aisle over reached her ears.

"Ah, there you are! Why haven't you rung me yet?" said a woman's cloying, sing-song voice.

"Er, we just met—"

That voice. Oh no, was it him? _HERE?_  Oh, bloody hell!  She’d never run into him here before. When she wasn't toiling away daylight hours as a _Tesco_ cashier, she worked weeknights at a used bookstore/art gallery (the owner prided herself for her unique business model) teaching art classes in the back room. All to help pay rent and save for uni. With no a-levels, and three years since her peers had begun uni, she was beginning to think this was her lot, struggling to make ends meet and barely able to afford the art supplies she needed to do her job.

She pushed aside any further disparaging thoughts and inched her way down the aisle, reaching the end so she could peer around. And yes, there he was—or the back of him at least—in a light blue oxford and pinstriped brown trousers. _Cute bum._

 _Ugh, shut up!_ She fought the urge to roll her eyes at herself, and tilted her head so she could admire his broad shoulders while she pretended to arrange the end cap.

The woman (who was unsurprisingly beautiful, with honey-blonde hair in an elegant chignon and a designer blouse-skirt combo) pressed further. "Yes, and you're supposed to say that you haven't asked for my number yet. Don't you know how this works?"

"I don't know what's happening!"

Rose bit her lip as she smiled. It was strange to see him in this environment. She'd normally catch sight of him while awaiting her students at the bookstore/gallery. He’d wander the stacks near the back, perusing old books with worn spines, adorable specs perched on his freckled nose. She'd hear him asking the bookstore clerk after a certain edition or a rare original, always in the history or science section. Or literature, or medicine. He seemed to have varied interests, and unfortunately it appeared that taking an art class with her was not one of them, and so their paths had never really crossed.

The woman smiled, and it was lovely, with her dangly earrings sparkling in the flourescent lighting. "I'm asking you on a date, silly."

"I'm just here to buy porridge, I'm, I’m not—"

"It's all right, darling, I have that effect on handsome men. Here."

Rose narrowed her eyes as the woman produced a business card, offering it to him with a coy smile.  He eyed it, and Rose was drawn to the way his eyebrow arched and how he very distinctly did not reach for what the woman had offered.

“I’m terribly sorry, but I’m not—”

“Oh, just take it! I mean, please?”

Rose realized she could actually do something to intervene, despite the growling in her stomach and the light-headed, feeble feeling in her limbs. This woman really seemed to not be getting the hint, and the poor bloke was too polite (or clueless) to tell her to bugger off. But, what would he think? She probably looked like hell in her formless blue button up with _TESCO_ emblazoned on the sleeve, hair back in a messy ponytail, and a face in serious need of a touchup, but at least she felt brave (or maybe that was fatigue). She summoned what remaining strength she had and rounded the aisle, slipping her arm through his in one smooth motion. He smelled like tea and aftershave, and a bit of sandalwood, and she actually managed a tight smile up at him through the frenzy of nerves.

"’Scuse me, love, I just got off my shift for a break. Have you found the porridge yet?” Rose said, patting his arm. “It’s one aisle over.”

“Oh.” He blinked at her, eyes wide as they roamed her face, and he inhaled a little gasp. “Hello." 

Rose beamed at him, and then looked over at the woman, who was glaring at her with an unbecoming wrinkle in her nose and a curl to her lip.

“You know him?”

“I’d say so, yeah. Considering he’s my _fiancé_.”

“Oh, my apologies,” the woman said, affecting sincerity. She rolled her eyes, and then looked down her nose at the bookstore bloke. “I should have known you had low standards, why else would you be here?”

“ _You’re_ here,” Rose said.

Bookstore bloke let out a small giggle and Rose smiled up at him.

“Not intentionally. Whatever. I wouldn’t want to date someone who shopped at _Tesco_ anyway.”

Rose was way too distracted by gorgeous brown eyes to register the insult, and she panicked a little as she realized she knew next to nothing about him, least of all his name. Bookstore bloke was quite naff, now that she thought about it. And yet, he hadn’t stopped staring at her, his mouth open in disbelief, tongue pressed against his top teeth.

At last, he closed his mouth, turning his face back to the woman, but his eyes appeared to have a bit of trouble with the idea of _not_ looking at Rose, which made her feel all sorts of flips and swoops and butterflies. But that was nothing compared to how she felt when he tugged her closer, their sides pressed firmly together in a manner that was sure to corroborate her story. Her heart thrummed in her chest and her face grew hot.

“Yes, er, I’m at _Tesco_ for porridge and a few office supplies,” he quipped. “Where do you shop for your porridge and office supplies, _Harrods_?”

“Well, I never.” The woman shoved her business card back into her purse, and turned away with a scoff. “Have fun with your _chav_.”

“She’s not a—she’s an artist, I’ll have you know. A _brilliant_ artist,” he said, and he drew Rose against himself more firmly. “And thanks, I will. We’re going out for chips!”

Rose felt like the entire world was slipping away, leaving nothing behind but where he was touching her and the realization hanging in the air that he knew who she was. Yes, she was hungry. So, so hungry, and chips sounded _fantastic_ right about now, but she definitely hadn’t been hallucinating.

“Rose, yes?” he said, glancing down and back up.

“Y--yeah,” she said, puzzled until she realized she wore her name on her shirt. “Rose Tyler.”

“Nice to meet you, Rose. I’m John.” He smiled, and once assuring himself that the other woman was out of earshot, he leaned in. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, s’nothing.” She smiled. “John.”

“Yep! John Smith. So, you work here, I presume?”

Rose bit her lip, unable to look him in the eye. “Yes. It’s because--”

“Doesn’t matter why. I’m just so glad to see you here!” His smile was incredible. Bright and beaming, crinkles fanning from his eyes, perfect teeth on display, perfect hair just within her reach.

“Yeah, me too.” She grinned, relaxing into whatever was going on between them now.

He walked around the aisle to the assortment of porridges, tugging her along.

“Sorry about that woman, by the way. She sort of followed me in.” He laughed a little as he plucked a box of steel cut oats from the shelf. “I’m sure you’re busy.”

“S’okay, I’m on a break, or about to be, so it’s no trouble.” Shit. SHIT! She hadn’t clocked off yet! She glanced at the nearby wall clock to find she had roughly forty-five minutes left--but, she sighed with relief, remembering the _hadn’t clocked off yet_ part of that previous thought. She glanced down at how her arm was still linked through his. “So you, uh, you recognize me then?”

“Oh, of course I have! Why else do you think… I mean, I like rare books same as anyone,” he said, and pulled away from her awkwardly so he could scratch the back of his head, “but I saw that you—well. I mean, I saw you--that is, there’s a bit of a window to the classroom and—I can never seem to catch you at the right time. You’re always about to teach or in the middle of, and I don’t want to pester you.”

“You wouldn’t’ve. Could’ve done with a little chat.” Rose smiled against her shoulder and rubbed her arm where it had been linked with his. This couldn’t be really happening. Surely a river of chips would flow past at any moment, vinegar rafts and salt-shaker shores and everything.  

“Next time then.” He tipped his porridge at her. “If you’re about to go on a break, maybe we could, er… that is, if you want to—” he made a face. “Maybe you wouldn’t fancy chips, I mean, there are plenty of other—”

“I want chips.” She grinned, biting lightly on her tongue.

  
“Brilliant!” John returned her smile. "Rose Tyler, it's a date."


	21. Ring the Midwife (Tentoo/Rose)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pregnancy, labour/birth, and baby fic warning.

The plucking sensation in her womb was followed by a warm rush of liquid.

"My water broke!"

Rose flings the covers off of her and waddles to the bathroom as more fluid flows out of her and into the extra-large and absorbent maxi pad that her mother had suggested she should wear in her final weeks just to prepare for this very event.

She hears a crash and a series of thumps as the Doctor flies out of his workroom and rushes up the stairs.

“I’m here! What should I do? Do I need to get your bag? Call the midwife? You should lie down! Don’t sit on the toilet, what if—Rose?”

Rose closes her eyes and breathes evenly as the first contraction passes. Not as bad as she imagined. Like a period cramp in a way. She opens her eyes to see the Doctor frozen in place, gangly limbs suspended awkwardly as if playing freeze tag.

He swallows, his eyes as wide as saucers. “This is it?”

“Yeah, I’m going to ring mum. You ring the midwife,” Rose says, feeling surprisingly calm.

“Me? What do I say?” The Doctor unfreezes and scrambles to find the mobile.

“Ooh!” Rose screws up her face as another contraction hits. It’s a bit more intense than the first one, though she can still manage to clean herself up through the pain. “How about telling her we’re having a baby for starters!”

“Right! Be right back, love!” The Doctor rushes out of the room.

///

Eight hours and twenty-two minutes later, after thirty minutes of pushing and the searing pain of unmedicated birth, a baby boy was placed in her arms. Rose smiles, tears in her eyes as she looks down at the tiny bundle. 

“Look, Rose. We have babies,” the Doctor says, cradling a baby girl in his arms.

Rose’s smile broadens as she looks up at him, but he’s lost in his daughter’s dark little eyes. She kisses her son’s head, not even caring that he hadn’t been cleaned up yet, as they work to clamp the umbilical cord.

This thing she has feared—becoming a mother—has only just begun. But as she watches the Doctor sing a lullaby (the same one from Gallifrey that he’d been singing to her belly as it grew) to their daughter, she’s overcome with wonder at how life had ever made sense before now.


End file.
